Buttons
by Ryeloza
Summary: "You know if this shirt had any buttons left we wouldn't be having this problem."  Tom/Lynette; pre-series.


**Disclaimer: **_Desperate Housewives_ isn't mine.

**Story Summary: **"You know if this shirt had any buttons left we wouldn't be having this problem." Tom/Lynette; pre-series.

**Buttons**

A story by **Ryeloza**

It was after nine when Tom emerged from the bedroom looking as though his night had been anything but restful. He staggered into the room blearily rubbing his hands over his eyes, and Lynette couldn't help but smile at the way his hair stuck out in ten different directions. Despite the large yawn he greeted her with, the second he spotted her on the couch wearing nothing but her socks, bra, panties, and his shirt, his eyes lit up. "Hey," he said, stumbling over and giving her a quick kiss. Lithely, she raised her foot to his chest and pushed him away, and Tom groaned.

"I'm eating," she said as he flopped down next to her on the couch. As an appeasement, she offered him a bite of her cereal, but he bypassed the spoon to start kissing her neck instead. "Tom…"

"Do you really expect me to ignore how sexy you look right now?"

"Uh-huh. You know if this shirt had any buttons left we wouldn't be having this problem."

"Wanna bet?"

Lynette rolled her eyes as he worked his way down to her collarbone, one of his hands settling on her stomach and gently stroking her skin. With effort, she ignored him and continued eating her breakfast. "You know," he said, undeterred by her apparent lack of interest, "the button thing is your fault anyway."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really. As I recall, you were the one who decided to rip the shirt off instead of taking the time to unbutton it."

"It was in my way."

"I love when you have no self-control." He sat up and waggled his eyebrows, and she shook her head fondly. It was hard to say no to him when he was acting so damn cute. Tom seemed to realize she was weakening; gently he took the bowl from her hands and set it on the coffee table. "Besides," he said, wrapping his arms around her and lowering her down on the couch, "you're the one who hasn't gotten around to fixing the buttons."

"Wait—What?"

Tom shrugged, trying and failing to kiss her as she squirmed out from underneath him and sat up again. He knelt back with a puzzled look on his face, and Lynette shook her head. "Are you serious?"

"No. I mean, it was only a week ago. I know you're busy."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said as he tried to swoop down on her again. "Why is it my job to sew your buttons back on?"

"Uh…You're the one who ripped them off."

"Do you know how many of my shirts you've ripped the buttons off of? I can give you two right now that need fixed."

Tom laughed. "Babe, I don't know how to sew."

"So?"

"So…"

"Learn."

"What?"

Lynette stood before Tom could react, leaving him grasping at the air where she'd just sat. Hands on her hips, she quirked an eyebrow at him; he just gawked at her. "I'm serious, Tom. I'm not spending the next sixty years sewing buttons back on your shirts. You're going to learn how to do this."

"Lynette—"

She turned and went to the cupboard where she kept her sewing kit, not quite sure why she was turning this into a statement about their marriage. Somehow she felt compelled to make a point now, though what that point was seemed completely incomprehensible. "This isn't hard," she said, coming back to Tom and sitting down across from him. He looked flabbergasted; maybe that was why he took the needle she handed him without protest. "You can at least thread a needle, right?"

"Uh…"

"You just put the thread through the eye," she explained as she knotted the end of the thread for him and handed it over. He stared at her as though she was speaking Greek, so she clarified: "That little hole in the needle."

"How can you even see that?"

"Do you need to borrow my reading glasses?"

"No." Tom squinted, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he clumsily tried to jab the thread through the needle. The urge to reach out and do it herself was overwhelming; Lynette sat on her hands to quell the impulse. Finally, on the fifth try, he succeeded, grinning at her like he'd won the lottery. "Now what?"

"Now you sew the button back onto the shirt," she said, picking up a button and handing it to him. "It's easy. Just set the button where you want to sew it, start underneath and work in a crisscross pattern."

"Shouldn't you take the shirt off?"

"I think I can trust you not to stick me."

"Risking your life. Is it wrong that I'm turned on right now?"

Lynette smiled as Tom carefully pulled the needle up through the button; she could feel the heat from the back of his hand against her breast—combined with the adorable look of concentration on his face, it was almost enough to stop the impromptu lesson and get back to making out. Almost.

"How'd you learn how to do this anyway? Your mom doesn't seem like the type who sews."

"What? You can't see Stella stitching up our clothes?"

"Not really."

"Yeah, well, you're right."

Tom paused for a moment with an expectant look. "So…?"

"So my grandmother was a seamstress. She taught me the basics. The rest I kind of picked up on my own."

"The rest?" Tom grinned, his tone teasing. "What? Are you telling me you can do more than buttons?"

"Maybe."

He leaned forward and kissed her nose. "So secretive. When do I get to learn the full range of your talents?"

"Someday."

"And they say mystery dies when you get married."

Lynette smirked, letting him make one more stitch before she stopped him and expertly knotted the end of the thread. Tom snipped the end with the scissors, and then fastened the button. "Wow," he said, awe in his voice. "It actually worked."

"I told you."

"So now I can sew my own buttons."

"Yes."

With a wicked smile, he took hold of the shirt and promptly ripped it back open. Lynette's mouth dropped open, gaping at him, but he just shrugged. "It's like you said," he said, leaning down and kissing the swell of her breast. "Not that hard to fix."

**

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A/n: **Based off of Tom's throwaway line in "The Best Thing That Ever Could Have Happened" about Lynette making him sew his own buttons. It might be the most random, pointless fic I've ever written, but I couldn't resist. Please let me know what you thought!


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